Hiraeth
by HeyOli
Summary: Hiraeth: longing for a home one cannot have or never had. While residing at the farm with Hershel, Rick and Shane find themselves in big trouble in the centre of a walker herd. They fight off most of them, but are saved by a mysterious hidden bowman. After hunting for days for the possible threat, the group brings their saviour back when they are gravely injured.
1. Chapter 1

Rick and Shane had found themselves in trouble.

As in, knee-deep-in-shit trouble.

The two former cops lifted their guns and knives at the surrounding walkers, slashing and shooting at them. The flow of the undead couldn't seem to stop as they fought for their lives once again in the forest. Walkers herded in on them, trying to simply get a bite of the fresh meat that Rick and Shane held on their bodies.

Rick was pushed to the ground. He twisted onto his back to see the surprise walker, pushing on its face. He tried to reach for a weapon that had fallen far from his arms, but to no succeed. Shane didn't want to make himself vulnerable by stabbing the walker, so he aimed his gun at its head.

 _Click!_

Shane held down the trigger twice more.

 _Click!_

 _Click!_

Empty. He was out of bullets. Rick still lied on the ground, struggling to push off the walker on him.

 _Splat!_

An arrow sliced through the walker's head. The corpse fell on top of Rick's chest and splattered blood on his button-down shirt. The two men looked to their right as more arrows sliced through walker's brains to clear a path through the trees. They expected to see Daryl, but someone with a pale face hidden by a tied-back black bandanna ran about to retrieve arrows.

The short person had dark brown fringe-styled hair that reached just past their eyes. They swung a black curvy bow too long for their body as they retrieved their arrows, leaving muddy footprints with their combat boots. Their ripped camouflage pants hung low on their waist as they ran, beginning to disappear into the dense trees.

"Who the hell is that?" Shane yelled with a deep voice. He lifted his gun again as he perceived the threat, clicking the trigger helplessly as their helper began to run off. "Goddammit," he snarled, reaching for Rick's gun on the ground. He pushed past dead corpses until he could pick up the gun with a slightly trembling hand.

 _Bang!_

 _Bang!_

The masked person began running in zig-zags as Shane shot bullets at them. "Stop," Rick shouted. The ex-sheriff reached to pull down Shane's arm quickly, but his partner pulled it back up to let another gunshot echo.

The person stumbled. They fell on the ground a far distance from their shooter, frantically trying to stand. "Shane, I said stop," Rick shouted again.

"And I'm just gonna let someone run around the forest where we live? Where Lori and Carl live?" Shane began trying to guilt-trip Rick into letting him kill their momentary saviour. He didn't want anymore threats to his home, and he would do anything it took to get rid of them.

Shane looked back at where the person had been, but they were beginning to stumble up and out again, nearly out of eyesight. He lifted the silver handgun again, pounding out two more loud bullets.

 _Bang!_

 _Bam!_

The two cops couldn't see if the person had been hit. They were too far away, and the masked helper had disappeared into the trees, wounded at least once.

Rick hit Shane's arm forcefully. "The hell was that? That looked like a fucking _kid,_ and you were gonna kill him?"

Shane turned his body to the other. "I'm not letting any more threats to my home or anyone else's. You want someone who can kill _you_ around Lori, around Carl?"

"We don't know if he's a threat," Rick argued in a growl-like voice. "If he was a threat, he wouldn't have just saved our asses."

Shane made a wide _so what_ gesture with his arms. "We don't know that."

Rick bit down on his back teeth. "Let's get back to the farm. We'll talk over this with Hershel."

Rick and Shane followed the path they had taken back to the farm, finding Daryl before going immediately through the house to get to Hershel. They stood around with the white-haired farmer and brunet redneck in the living room to describe the person they had been saved by.

"And you shot at him," Hershel asked in horrified amazement, once he had listened, "The idea didn't come to you that you could have killed a living person?"

"He could have been a threat," Shane justified angrily. "He could have a group, come find us and kill us, raid the farm. You want that?"

"We don't know that he'll do that," Hershel retorted, trying to stay calm.

"What we need to do right now," Rick intervened loudly with his thick Southern accent, "Is find the kid. He's been shot at least once, and if he isn't dead already, he will be soon after bleeding out. We'll figure out if he has a group or not after, and we'll figure out his plans."

"What makes ya think it's a guy," Daryl interrupted, "Said their face was covered, could be a chick."

Rick inhaled and put his hands on his hips in a kind of _I'm in charge and I know it_ way. "I don't think so," he replied with a small shrug to Daryl. "Girls like that, they can't always do that kind of thing. When's the last time you saw a girl bowman?"

Hershel almost intervened to argue with Rick about stereotyping people. He believed gender roles were okay, but women could still be decent archers and fighters. However, he knew the task at hand was more important.

"So why d'ya call me down here," Daryl asked in a sort of mumble as he fixed the strap on the crossbow hanging around his torso. "I don' know the kid."

"Can you track 'im?"

Daryl nodded his head. Rick crossed his arms and nodded back at the hunter.

"All right. Let's head out in an hour, then."


	2. Chapter 2

Shane and Rick led Daryl to where they had seen the person, then showed him the footprints and let him track the child like a bloodhound. The redneck man examined the muddy footprints, taking note of their depth and centre of gravity. He followed the direction they pointed in with the former cops in tow.

"Is'sa kid, but it ain't no helpless kid," he stated matter-of-factly as he crouched down to the footprints as he walked. "Pro'lly some teenager. Smart one, though, runnin' aroun' in zig-zag shapes when you was shootin' at 'em."

Daryl stalked through the trees, keeping close to the footprints. The teen's feet were small, but they wore men's boots that were entirely too large. And Daryl had a feeling he was right about the teenager being a girl.

The three men followed the footprints for another half hour, occasionally stopping so Daryl could examine the prints' changes. He had already determined that the teen's left leg had been injured and that they had to be close, but they hadn't found the child yet.

Daryl stopped as the footprints changed into several directions in one spot. He gazed around, observing wet crimson blood on the ground. "They gotta be here."

"Where," Shane asked impatiently.

Daryl circled the nearby trees. He stalked across the leaves and grass until he heard shallow breathing. The hunter then saw a small figure against a tree only ten feet away. Approaching it, Daryl got the attention of a small girl, huddled against the tree with her knees bent up loosely. When she noticed the three men, she began trying to push herself away.

Rick and Shane both knew this was the girl they had seen before. She had the same camouflage pants with a hole in the knee, and the bangs of her long brown pixie cut reached just past the black bandanna that she now used for a headband around her hairline. She was gripping her black bow tightly by the ground with a ripped leather quiver full of arrows around one shoulder. She had to have been at least fifteen or sixteen. The girl also had ripped grey fabric tied around one thigh and around her lower chest; both were stained in blood.

"What's your name," Rick asked, his hand cautiously hovering over his gun. Shane did the same, but he also took his handgun out of its holster to hold tightly by his side.

The young girl reached a slightly trembling hand up to flip the men off, trying to push away and possibly stand up again. Daryl leaned on the balls of his feet before bringing his legs in front of him to sit on the ground. He stared at the girl, watching her small movements. She obviously couldn't stand, but she could stare right back at the hunter.

The girl had very feminine features, but her face was very defined with a sharp jaw and a rock-hard expression. Her lips were dry and cracked as if she was dehydrated, and her skin was pale. Her eyes were such a pure green that they reminded Daryl of the wilting green apple tree one of his neighbors had when he was a kid, and how he and Merle would run down to steal some of the small fruits.

The girl also wore a thin black leather jacket. They hid her arms, but Daryl could still see the prominent and toned muscles in her biceps and forearms. Her white knuckles were covered in tiny scars; some were slitted, and some were scraped, and some were burned. She held her left hand in a small fist, but she kept her right hand gripping tightly on her bow. Daryl could see a knife- a hunting knife- held to her waist by her leather belt.

"What's yer name," he asked in a mumble, as if it really wasn't that important. Which, to him, it wasn't. He only cared about getting her back to the farm to help her leg, then be able to get away from his group- filled with people bickering like little kids.

The girl didn't respond yet again. "Can you hear us," Rick asked gently.

"I ain't fuckin' deaf," she snapped. Daryl couldn't help but get a small smirk across his face.

"Then what is it," the hunter asked slightly louder, "Pick a new one, but y'only get one."

"Cailey," she mumbled. Cailey had a northern accent, nothing like Rick's or Daryl's or even Hershel's. She sounded like she wasn't even from Georgia, but the way she spoke made her sound more like a hick or a redneck.

"Well, Cailey," Rick began, "Why don't we get you back to our camp. We got medical supplies and everything we need to fix up those gunshots."

Cailey once again only replied by raising her middle finger at the men. Daryl held back another smirk as he stood up. "Wasn't a question," he stated matter-of-factly. "C'mon."

"No," she stated simply with a sharp tone.

"No," Rick echoed questioningly. "Don't ya want to get that fixed up?"

"No."

"C'mon," Daryl interrupted sharply, knowing she was simply being stubborn- most likely because Shane was there after shooting her. "Stop bein' a brat."

Cailey crossed her arms as she leaned against the tree more. "Stop actin' like my father."

Daryl swung his arms down and threw the girl over his shoulder. "Put me down," she protested sharply. Her tone was not like any other teen girl's would be, it was filled with pure anger and irritation, it was bold and loud. Daryl thought she was also much lighter than most teenagers, especially with her wide and muscular build; even though in this world, it was easy to starve. "Put me down," she repeated louder. She pounded a fist against Daryl's back. The impact hurt his shoulder, but he kept moving as Rick and Shane picked up her bow and quiver.

The girl moved and squirmed as Daryl kept walking with her over his shoulder. She punched him in the upper back again. "Im'ma drop ya right on yer' hard-ass fuckin' head," he stated.

"Fine," she retorted sarcastically. Daryl gripped her right thigh, just below where she had tied fabric as a makeshift bandage. The girl grunted and kicked at him the best she could. "Stop!"

"Then stop fuckin' movin' 'round."


	3. Chapter 3

"Daryl," Rick called.

Daryl spun on his heels to look over at the leader. Rick gestured him over with his head. "Put 'er down real quick."

Daryl left the angry Cailey by a tree with her arms crossed. The hunter followed Rick and Shane just out of earshot from Cailey. "Blinfold her with her bandanna," Rick instructed. "We can't have 'er knowing how to get to the farm."

Daryl nodded. "'Kay."

Daryl stalked across the grass towards Cailey again. "Quit poutin', let's go." He pulled her bandanna down over her eyes and tightened the knot. "Move it off yer' face and im'ma hog-tie ya."

"Asshole," she mumbled. However, she no longer fought with the man as he moved her around and threw her back over his shoulder. Her arms remained crossed as she was blindly pulled across the forest.

"Hershel," Rick called out loudly through the house once they reached the front door. "Hershel," he repeated loudly.

The white-haired farmer rushed through the house to meet Rick in the living room. "Put her on the bed, quick," he pointed to the bed with white sheets. "Maggie, Beth," he called to his daughters, "Get my supplies, and a light. It's getting dark!"

Daryl gently dropped Cailey on her back onto the mattress. She instantly began pushing away and ripped the bandanna down her face. Her eyes darted from Hershel to his daughters to rick and his group. She tried to push away, but whimpered in pain as she pressed weight on her bullet-wounded leg.

"Come on, calm down," Hershel instructed quickly as he sat on a chair next to the bed. "Let's take a look at you."

Cailey pulled her body up the bed again, away from the others. Hershel made an attempt to unwrap her t-shirt bandage, but she kicked away and tried to escape him. Daryl clotheslined her, pressing her into the mattress. "C'mon, girl, jus' relax."

Cailey whimpered and tried to pull herself from Daryl's grip, and Daryl huffed as he pulled her down. She squirmed her torso and legs, but the redneck managed to pull her head against his thigh and hook his other leg around her torso. The brunette was forced to lie still as Daryl kept one arm around her shoulders and collarbone. He pinned her right arm against him as she tried to fight, letting her keep her other arm stuck under her body.

Cailey lied half under Daryl, defeated. Her chest moved with shallow and ragged breaths. Hershel untied the blood-stained fabric around her left thigh, examining the bullet hole on the side of her leg through the rip in her pants. "There are still fragments of the bullet in her leg," he stated, "We have to get them out before she bleeds out or it becomes infected. There's probably some in her side, too."

Maggie and Beth rushed to help find the small metal tools that their father needed. "I need the rest of you to get out," the veterinarian began to shoo away the rest of the group. "I need more space and light. Daryl, I need you to stay here in case she tries to move." Daryl did not acknowledge Hershel, he only remained over Cailey before she had the chance to make an attempt at getting up. "Maggie, I need warm towels, and Beth, I need more bandages than this. The rest of you, get out."

Shane and Rick left the house, along with two of Hershel's people who had been in the living room. The decrease in bodies brought more light as there were no more shadows to be cast on the floor and bed. The gasoline lamp brightened the entire room with a yellow flame. "Daryl, I need you to make sure she stays still," Hershel instructed, expressing the importance.

Cailey squirmed around slightly. "Quit movin'," Daryl told her. "Ya wanna get yer' leg cut off?"

Cailey stopped moving, and Hershel picked up one of his tools. The teenager couldn't see what the man was doing with Daryl's arm keeping her in place and blocking her view. The veterinarian used his scalpel to move her skin, getting to work.

Cailey tensed and forced her nails into her palm. She bit down on her back teeth as Hershel pulled on the muscle and began trying to remove tiny bullet pieces. Her breathing became more shallow as more and more blood began coming from the wound. Her leg felt like it was on fire, and Hershel held her leg down as he continued trying to work. He pressed a damp towel against the wound as Maggie came back into the room with the piles of white towels.

"Lucky you found her when you did," Hershel commended Daryl, "Already beginning to bleed out, she wouldn't have made it if you hadn't found her before."

Cailey managed to remain still for the rest of the time that Hershel fixed her leg. He bound it tightly in white gauze after ripping her pants more, tying it not-so-carefully. "All right," he exhaled, "Now let's take a look at this." Hershel moved up to her torso, shooing away Daryl's leg as it got in the way. Daryl lowered his leg off Cailey's torso and rested it by her side, keeping his arm against her collarbone. Hershel untied the fabric around her lower chest, running two fingers over the bullet wound in her side. He cautiously grabbed his scalpel and tweezers, beginning to pull on the bloodied skin.

Cailey tensed up and tried to force herself to sit. Daryl fought back, pulling on her hair to force her head onto the bed again. Hershel gently lifted Cailey's shirt up to just below a black sport's bra, beginning to clean the puncture in her side.

Daryl could see several marks and scars on the girl's hips and stomach. Some scars looked like they had been cut open, others looked like permanent bruises. On her left side, there was a rippling burn scar on her back that just barely curled around to her hip and side. As Hershel moved around on the same side as the burn scar, Cailey made small whimpers and groans in pain.

Daryl realized it wasn't just the bullet wound that was hurting- it was also the chronic pain from the old burn. It appeared old, but had to have caused damage and incredible pain. The hunter looked down at Cailey, who gazed at the ceiling with her chest rising and falling quickly with shallow breaths. He removed his hand from the teenager's hair, unwrapping his fingers from the dark brown strands to stop pulling on them.

Cailey gasped and trembled as Hershel pulled on her muscles, forcing out the tiny pieces of metal. Small whimpers still escaped her mouth as her side burned with terrible pain. Daryl couldn't help but feel bad for the young girl, and he gently ran his hand through her hair.

Hershel tied the bandages around her torso tightly. "That should hold for now, as long as she doesn't mess with them."

The vet looked over Daryl's arm at Cailey. "Just get some rest for now."


End file.
